John Watson, John Watson
by TheMollyBee
Summary: John gets cloned at Baskerville. Sherlock likes the original. Mycroft likes the clone. Lestrade likes Mycroft. Moriarty likes Sherlock. Ship ALL the ships!
1. Chapter 1

"So how long does he usually spend in his 'Mind palace'?" Stapleton enquired.

"That depends. He's a bit upset that he got the sugar thing wrong, so it'll be a little faster today to prove his brilliance to himself." John rolled his eyes at the last statement, but believing it nonetheless.

"He's not going to tell Kirsty what really happened to bluebell, is he?"

"I don't think so. Although, sometimes he just doesn't understand things. Especially children, they're mysteries to him. He might tell her but mean it in the best possible way." John shrugged as he spoke, not really sure which course of action his friend/colleague would take.

"Tell you what. If I let you have free roam of the lab, can you get him to promise not to tell?" Stapleton asked, nervously fidgeting a little as they waited to be allowed back after the mind palace had cleared.

"How can you give us free roam of the lab?"

"I can't tell you that." She grinned, tapping the side of her nose. "I take it that's an acceptance of my offer then?"

"Okay. But we may as well leave him and go now, there's no telling how long he could be."

He stood up, and reached a hand down to help her off the cold floor they had been sitting on.

"Did you say something about cloning?"

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><p><strong>I have a lot of ideas for this. Those ideas did come about after a debate with my brother and a severe lack of sleep, but they're ideas nonetheless.<strong>

**It's going to involve Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Moriarty, Mycroft... And anyone else I weave into it.**

**I'd love some feedback on this, but I'll continue it anyway, I guess.**


	2. Chapter 2

"I'd heard they were good there, but my god." Mycroft said, astounded, looking over the figure standing in the kitchen, quietly sipping at a cup of coffee while Mycroft gawped and Sherlock just looked so very bored.

"Apparently it's an early birthday present. John says that if I need someone to bounce ideas off when he's not here, then I'm meant to talk to the other John instead of insisting he texts me back."

The other John nodded in agreement with Sherlock, and sipped a bit more coffee, still not speaking.

"That seems fair enough." Sherlock's pout at that proved he thought otherwise "But what about when John is here? What does the other John do then?"

"Housework?" Sherlock offered, not knowing the answer just yet.

"I'm not some kind of servant!" The clone blurted out, frustrated.

"Tell you what. When John is back, how about the other John lives with me? You've not really got space here for an extra person, but I do. John is tolerable; I imagine his clone is pretty much the same?" Mycroft mused, looking over at the clone for support.

John's clone nodded enthusiastically, returning to sipping his coffee and not saying anything.

"So the other me is going to live with Mycroft for most of the time?" John asked upon his return, finding his clone to be gone and fearing that Sherlock had been running experiments and had the other John in plastic bags in the fridge.

Sherlock nodded once as a reply.

"Okay. I guess one of us should have a fridge stocked with human food, and have money, and power." John said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Well, your other self may have all that, but he also has to deal with Mycroft. And Mycroft so fancies the other you." Sherlock said, taunting John until he shuddered.

"I'm not gay, so my clone isn't either, presumably, so Mycroft will have his work cut out for him." John rationalised.

Sherlock smirked.

"What have I missed?" John groaned in frustration.

"You're going to have to figure that one out for yourself." Sherlock said as he pulled on his coat and flounced out the door.

He stuck his head back round a few seconds later.

"Aren't you coming to see John Watson's boyfriend?"

And then Sherlock ducked to avoid the shoe that his John had just thrown at him.


	3. Chapter 3

John Watson sat across from himself. He sipped his tea, and watched himself make the same action shortly after. His other self said something, and John watched the way his mouth moved as he spoke.

"John, stop being so egotistical, it's getting boring."

"I'm not!" John protested. "It's just weird."

"How do you think I feel?" The other John asked. "I've been alive a week, but share thirty years of memories with you." He wrinkled his nose up in slight confusion at the end.

John decided against mentioning that they were 32, and instead went to observing Mycroft.

In the few hours that the second John had been living with Mycroft, wonders had happened. The three piece suits Mycroft normally wore were in the wardrobe, or somewhere else but not on him: he was dressed in a hideously expensive shirt along with a pair of jeans that John did not want to work out how long he'd have to save up for, but a shirt and jeans nonetheless.

John had to repress a groan every time Mycroft looked at the clone John, as Mycroft's eyes lit up and he looked years younger.

Sherlock joined John in looking like he'd been electrocuted when John's clone started looking at Mycroft in much the same way.

"That was weird." John had said as they'd hurried just as much as they'd been forced out the door after one cup of tea.

Sherlock nodded in agreement, his face looking pale enough to concern John.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

Sherlock nodded again, so John just shrugged and continued. "It's not like I have anything against it, but it's weird seeing myself so happy with…_ Mycroft_."

John didn't see Sherlock look up at the way he'd spat the name.

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><p><strong>I'm sorry for the two week gap here, but my brother sent me his fic and it's so much better than anything I could ever write but whatever, this one is purely for fun instead of being as intelluctual as his was. It just took me a while to remember that.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock was jealous of Mycroft and the other John, it was the only option. He wasn't completely sure, as jealousy was one of those pointless things he'd deleted - or so he thought. Every time the other John shot Mycroft a look, Sherlock decided he wanted to be on the receiving end of that, even if just from a John clone.

Because the clone may have been exactly like John in every way, but it just wasn't _John._

The clone didn't smell like John did - not that Sherlock had ever particularly cared not smell John, but he knew that he didn't smell like Mycroft and sex. God forbid the thought.

John's dismissal of Mycroft after leaving, the callous way his brother's name was spat from that mouth left Sherlock feeling quite peculiar, but nice, awful though that word was.

The jealousy was extremely confusing for Sherlock, not that he'd ever care to admit it. He wasn't in love with John, didn't even have any kind of basic animal urges to him, not really. Although he supposed the "not really" made all the difference there. And maybe it was just a case of not knowing what you've got until it's cloned and shagging your brother…

It would need thorough investigating.

And what did John smell like?

"John!" Sherlock figured it was best to find out as soon as possible.

"If you want me to hand you your phone again, just a warning, I may punch you."

"No, no. I want to smell you." John stepped back, seconds after his approach to Sherlock, who was sprawled across the sofa.

"Boundaries really aren't your strong point, are they?"

"Just shut up and bend over!"

"God, if anyone heard that, people would really talk." John protested, giving in to Sherlock's demands anyway, thinking that if he didn't comply he'd wake up with Sherlock leaning over him and smelling him, which wasn't completely an awful thought but anyway.

Sherlock leaned up and inhaled everything that was going to be filed under "How John smells" in his mind palace – yes, there was a category for everything, everything important anyway. Honey, soap, and raspberry jam. Chemicals, presumably from Barts. Latex, from the gloves he wears at work.

"You done?" John asked, awkwardly leaning over the gangly man on the sofa, with his head cocked at a weird angle.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, not making any move away from John's neck.

John nodded as he pulled away, shifting his body into a better, upright position.

"John?" Sherlock asked, quite quietly, and almost politely, enough to make John widen his eyes and lock them with Sherlock's.

"Yeah?" John asked, unsure as the look on Sherlock's face morphed into something animalistic and quite frankly odd.

"Can I taste you?"

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><p><strong>Hi. It's just past midnight, and I'm due back and school tomorrow, and I just wanted to write something nice and slightly crazy that would see us into the next chapter, which I cannot wait to write. Apologies if it gets too batshit, I can never tell.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Gregory Lestrade liked strong women. Blonde, preferably, but he wasn't massively picky. He liked them to be powerful; something he guessed came from his job as an authority figure of sorts, although coppers aren't really respected in the same way any more. He had a huge crush on Cuddy from the TV show House. He loved the way she yelled – not that he had any weird kinks or anything.

He was a simple man. He liked curves and boobs and smooth legs and tanned skin, and he liked the smell of fruity shampoo, and the smell of perfume.

He liked lie-ins, though he never got them. He liked junk food, but he also had a small obsession with apples. He liked beer, but he'd prefer a Coke most of the time.

He liked his job, he liked having something to show for his efforts. He liked having control over idiots like Anderson. He wouldn't admit to it, but he liked Sherlock's arguments with Anderson. It was a bit like watching the Discovery channel, which again, he also liked.

So when Greg found himself nodding off on the sofa after an 18 hour shift and had to pull himself up to bed, because he'd enough experience sleeping on that sofa to know the perils to his back, he was not expecting the dream he had.

It wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a good dream. It wasn't a sex dream, or a high dream, or even a warped pregnancy craving dream. Although the latter three summed it up best of all, he supposed.

Mycroft Holmes, the ice man, the sociopath's powerful, somewhat evil brother. Mycroft Holmes, the lover of umbrellas, the man who occupied a minor position in the British government but had the power to cover up everything Sherlock did. Mycroft _bloody_ Holmes (and actually, that probably was his middle name).

Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft Holmes in a cake. Mycroft Holmes wearing a sash with "Happy birthday" written on, and Mycroft Holmes singing the bloody song to go with the occasion.

Mycroft Holmes climbing out of the cake, adjusting his sash to cover what was probably worth more than the _real_ crown jewels, and launching into a version of that candy man song from Willy Wonka.

Awaking in a start and plodding off to the bathroom, cursing his body for still thinking he was a goddamn teenager, Lestrade tried to decide what the weirdest part of the dream was. The way Mycroft moved his sash and consequently ruined Greg's fun, delightful view? The fact that Greg would do anything for a fat slice of chocolate cake now?

Pondering it later, finally getting his cake in a cafe on his miracle of an opportunity for a break, Gregory Lestrade concluded the weirdest part was the way he'd seen Mycroft come in to his cafe, and then had his grin crushed at the sight of what was on the other end of Mycroft's hand.

John Watson. John bloody Watson.


	6. Chapter 6

"There were peanuts ground up and slipped into his soap. He didn't notice the small reaction when rubbing it into his skin, but when he fell back on the nervous habit of sucking his thumb, the reaction closed up his throat, the shock made him lurch backwards and he smacked his head on the wall, cracking his skull and falling out of the chair in the process. The cleaner found him, panicked that they'd be in trouble for his murder, shifted him into the chair, covered the wound with the man's hand so he looked like he was sleeping on the desk, and pretended to never have been here."

Lestrade and John finally blinked and exhaled at the end of Sherlock's deductions.

"Right." Lestrade nodded, stepping away from John as he'd been standing next to him tense and jealous after his earlier encounter, but thankfully Lestrade had remained unnoticed by the lovesick couple. He repressed a shudder at the thought, feeling the green monster grip onto him once more.

"You're bloody brilliant." John said to Sherlock, sighing a little. His tone made Lestrade freeze on the way to tell Donavon Sherlock's deductions so she could write them down. He'd had a bad day, he was leaving as soon as he could.

But he froze.

"It comes naturally." Sherlock replied, his voice kind of _sultry_ sounding… No…

Lestrade spun around just as Sherlock pushed John into a wall to kiss him.

Gregory Lestrade wasn't a violent man. He was a copper, he knew what to do, but he was more of a puppy really.

John's nose gave a satisfying crack as it met Lestrade's fist.

"You do not get away with cheating on Mycroft." Lestrade spat, before storming out, bumping into Anderson in the process and screaming in frustration at the intrusion to his path.

He did not turn around to witness the shocked faces of everyone, including Sherlock, as he left. He did not listen to Sherlock and John call his name. He did not see Sherlock run after him, with John trying to keep up with him whilst holding one hand to his nose, using a tissue to stem the blood flow.

He did, however, see the black cab that pulled up in front of him. And he did see the door close before Sherlock and John reach him, although he had no idea why John was coming after him as he didn't look angry.

He was too busy investigating his knuckles to notice the cabbie reach up to the overhead mirror and adjust it. "Well, Greggie, you look like you've had a long day. This one's free. No charge."

And then the locks on the doors clicked, and Lestrade's eyes interlocked with the man in the driver's seat, and although he'd never met the man, the pure, unadulterated malice in the man's eyes gave away his identity more than the four syllables Greg spoke.

"Moriarty."

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><p><strong>I have a mountain of biology work, along with some literature to analyse and some equations to simplify, but of course, look where I ended up.<strong>

**How are you liking this so far? I have big plans. And big hurdles, but mostly big plans.**

**A review would be much appreciated, anonymous or not.**

**See you lot soon.**


	7. Chapter 7

"What the hell was that?" Donavon asked, or rather demanded of John once Lestrade had left.

Sherlock and John granted her no answer, Sherlock pressing a tissue into John's hand as he grabbed him to chase after Lestrade.

"So, obviously he saw the other me with Mycroft, and as he doesn't know there are now two John Hamish Watsons walking around, he thinks I'm somehow shagging you and Mycroft without the other knowing." John stated while lolloping after Sherlock, who was striding ahead with his coat billowing so much behind him that it was almost enough to knock John over.

"Yes. Rather idiotic of him really, more so than usual even."

"Great, he's getting into a cab, we'll never catch him."

"The driver will wait. Mycroft's probably realised and has stopped it out of pity for Lestrade, and of course to give us the delightful job of explaining it all to him."

And then the door slammed and the car sped off and Sherlock didn't need to see the face of the cabbie or Lestrade's expression to deduce that many things were incredibly wrong.

And all John needed was the curse word that fell from Sherlock's lips.

"Shit."

"Round to Mycroft's then? You're going to have to walk first, I am not walking in to see myself getting screwed by Mycroft."

"Quiet John, we're on a case. No sex." John stopped, turning to Sherlock in disbelief.

"You're turned on at the thought of your brother fucking me?"

"No, no. Just… you. Leave Mycroft out of this, please." Sherlock shuddered.

John laughed at Sherlock's plea, before removing the tissue from his face and throwing it into a conveniently placed bin.

"I don't think it's broken, it'll just be bruised for a while." John muttered, more to himself as Sherlock probably already knew from the pitch of what had sounded like a crack.

Sherlock nodded "You should maybe pretend it's broken, don't want to wound Lestrade's ego by insulting his right hook."

John clasped his hands together, giving a small half smile at what Sherlock said. "Okay. Right then, Detective, let's go investigate."

Sherlock stopped, as if to walk next to John, and then straightened up more than John had thought possible for the tall man who walked with his chin held high. John looked at him for some confirmation as to what had made him stand on edge.

"Moriarty."

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><p><strong>Uh, hi. I'm still putting off everything I had to do last chapter, so you're getting daily updates. Aren't you lucky.<strong>

**This chapter is dedicated to Kat. Thank you so much for your review!**

**So oooh, Sherlock knows that Moriarty took our favourite silver fox. But why? Stay tuned, bro.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Now now, Greggie, that temper of yours has got you in a sticky little situation. I'm loving it."

Lestrade all but growled as reply. Moriarty had parked the cab and joined him in the back seat, putting Lestrade's own handcuffs on him.

"What do you want me for? It's not like there's anything you can do that will make me help you with whatever twisted shit you're planning."

"Oh, I know that Greggie, I just thought you'd be interested in something I found out. I found it intriguing. Quite unique, except obviously that's not the point. Ha ha. No? Oh dear. Ordinary people are so adorable."

Lestrade shook his head, the Irish tones warping in his head and not making any sense.

Moriarty moved closer to Lestrade, so the DI lurched back until he was against the window, but Moriarty followed and pinned him there.

"Why are you trying to escape me? I just want to help you. I help you, you help me. It's a win-win situation, honest." Moriarty's grin made Lestrade shudder, but he hung his head in fake defeat, acting like he was about to give in to whatever the shorter, more annoying Sherlock wanted.

Moriarty saw that it was faked, but knew that Lestrade would want to get in on his plan.

"Well, Greggie… If you don't mind that I call you that. Apologies" He sang "But I have it under excellent authority, my own in fact, that your ice man is indeed sleeping with John Watson."

"I knew that already. Can I go now?"

"No, you're going to want to hear this bit. He is sleeping with John Watson, and I do believe there is an engagement on the cards, but the point is that he is not sleeping with the same version of Johnny that Sherlock '_makes love'_ with." He spat the end of his revelation, miming inverted commas.

Gregory Lestrade was officially confused. He opened his mouth to verbalise it, but Moriarty pushed one finger to his lips. Lestrade looked down in shock, then shook his head to remove the alien touch.

"How do I explain this to your simple little mind?" Moriarty mused "There are two John Watsons. Original, and clone. Your favourite little politician has the clone one as his pet. Which is where you come in."

"No. This is not like hitting his dog with my car or something. No. I'm not… No."

"Greggie dear, I wasn't asking you to."

Lestrade looked up at Moriarty, looking into his eyes, genuinely interested in what was about to come out of his mouth next.

"You want the cream cake. I want the skinny latte. You go and inform Mycroft that we are going to go to Baskerville to get ourselves little clones, and get yourself some of his blood, and some of Sherly's too of course for your's truly, and I promise a six month honeymoon period where I don't do anything criminal in the slightest."

Lestrade didn't get a chance to answer as the door unlocked and swung open, and one of Moriarty's heavies pulled him onto the pavement.

Standing up and brushing himself down, Lestrade watched the cab turn round a corner and speed off, and then took in his surroundings.

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><p><strong>I fell asleep in school today, and yesterday too, so I'm tired enough to not know if I've written actual words or not. Apologies.<strong>

**This chapter is dedicated to CowMow and Erin Cumberbatch.**

**I forgot where I was going with this, so we're going another way, a far more cracky way with roadkill and shit. Yay!**

**If you review, I promise not to draw on your face while you're sleeping.**


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock and John hopped out of the cab and Sherlock strode off, John trailing after him as he never knew his way to Mycroft's, Sherlock changing the way they came every time so John could never remember and get it forced out of him if he got kidnapped and tortured for information on Mycroft's whereabouts by being force fed his own jumpers by some ill-witted minor criminal while Sherlock was out of town or on a roof or somewhere where John was not.

Okay, yes, Sherlock was a little overprotective, but John didn't mind.

"Ah good Lestrade, we came to the same place then after all."

Lestrade turned around to see Sherlock, and John then appearing from behind him looking angry but also calm in the way only John Watson seemed to be able to do.

"John, I am so, so sorry for hitting you. I didn't realise, with the clone, and everything…"

"Oh, you've found out about my other self then? Okay. Wait, how?"

Lestrade gulped, feeling he shouldn't give away any of the plan he seemed to have joined Moriarty in.

"I finally paid attention to how Sherlock deducts. It just took me a while. The other you is left handed."

That was a total bluff, but John seemed to buy it. Sherlock didn't, and looked pointedly at Lestrade as he tried to deduce but failed due to the severe oddity of it.

"Right, now shall we go in and catch Mycroft shagging me on the sofa?" John asked rather chirpily, clapping his hands.

"Don't remind me!" Lestrade groaned, yet still followed John in.

"Lestrade." Sherlock barked, grabbing hold of the neck of Lestrade's shirt and stopping him from following John. "What is Moriarty making you do?"

Crap. Now Sherlock knew Moriarty was involved, he may as well just tell him the whole story because it would all come out in the next four minutes of something ludicrous like that. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to expose it all before John rushed back out.

"I don't think we should go in."

"Don't be stupid John; of course we should go in. Disturbing Mycroft is the least dull thing I'll do all day."

John shook his head, holding his hands up in protest. "You go ahead, but he's powerful enough anyway, I'm not sure I can be not scared around him when he's yelling like that."

Sure enough, as if a demonstration of Mycroft's anger was needed, they heard something smash. Glass. A mirror, Sherlock told them, before he raced in.

* * *

><p><strong>This is really awful, I'm sorry. I wrote it last night, then read it through and decided there was absolutely no way I could post it.<strong>

**Then today I read through it again and edited it and I'm offering it up as permission for the shit to be ripped out of me.**

**On a better note, I've started a new fic, _Fernando Sunburn_, about Sherlock and John on _Take Me Out_... It's meant to be quite good, and I'd love it if you checked it out.**

**I swear the next update on this will be better, and faster too.**

**I have been relatively busy though. I will have updated this at least once by the 28th, that's a promise.**


	10. Chapter 10

"What on Earth is going on here?" Sherlock asked, strolling in to Mycroft's house. His smile was so wide it was almost shark-like, and he flopped down onto one of Mycroft's comfortable armchairs, with John and Lestrade trailing hesitantly after him.

"It's our two week anniversary, and he's swanning about doing god knows what with CCTV footage! We're meant to still be in the honeymoon stage!" Clone John supplied, his hand gestures showing his outrage.

"It's important work! Crime doesn't take a day off just because you made breakfast!" Mycroft retorted. Sherlock looked like he was about to grace the room with a joke about Mycroft's weight, so the real John reached up and covered his mouth with his hand.

"You're the most powerful man in the whole world no doubt, surely you deserve one day off? One of your minions must be able to handle things just for one day?"

"Why today? Why not our ten year anniversary? Surely that's more important?"

"At this rate, I don't think there's going to be a one year anniversary, let alone a tenth!"

Everyone stilled at that. The atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife, if the knife could withstand the tension without cringing away.

"I didn't mean… You know I didn't mean it. Myc, please."

Mycroft stiffened; doing up the previously undone buttons on his shirt, before noticing he'd missed one and scowling down at his chest.

"Look, I'm just frustrated, and I'm sorry. There's no need to act like a child. Mycroft, look at me!"

"Déjà vu." John whispered sarcastically to Sherlock.

"My buttons are much better behaved than his." Sherlock insisted, missing John's point. John scoffed.

Lestrade stood quietly, surveying the situation.

"Lestrade, how much of my hair are you needing?" Mycroft asked, finally looking up but looking at Lestrade instead of his clone of a boyfriend.

"Fuck." Lestrade said, felling guilty and embarrassed and seriously considering running back out. "I'm not sure."

"John?" Sherlock asked. Both John's looked up. "No, clone John."

"We really need to sort this out. This is too confusing." The real John said, looking between Sherlock and his clone, who was currently leaning against a wall, lightly bashing his head against it.

"Agreed. I'll change my name. I'm thinking Martin? No, no, I have the perfect idea!"

"Here is a small sample of my blood." Mycroft handed Lestrade a clear bag with a tube of blood in, before reaching for another bag. "Here are four strands of my hair, three should be sufficient, but perhaps you can modify me a tid bit slimmer, just to please Sherlock, if you will."

"No, you're perfect." Lestrade realised what he said and bit down on his own lip in frustration. "Sorry. No brain to mouth filter today."

"It's quite alright." Mycroft then turned to Sherlock "Little brother, I do believe it's your turn. Though I am hesitant to see what happens as the result of having two of you."

Sherlock began to pluck out a few of his own hairs "I can understand why Moriarty wants a clone of me, but why does he want one of you, Mycroft?"

"He doesn't, Gregory does, and that's why he's been pulled into this. It will all be sorted out soon enough anyway though."

Lestrade hung his head in embarrassment.

"Oh Lestrade, you really could have done better. Mycroft, of all people? Old, fat, ice man Mycroft?"

Lestrade didn't even hesitate before lunging at Sherlock, his fist meeting Sherlock's nose this time.

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><p><strong>Hey. Hi. Hello.<strong>

**I'm thinking there's one, maybe two chapters left in this, plus the epilogue.**

**How are you liking this one? Good? Not good? So awful you're going to kill me, then resurrect me so I can write it again with your improvements? **

**Let me know, and I'll see you again in a few days.**


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock was unconscious.

Lestrade felt guilty about that, but also a little bit proud.

"Gregory, thank you for defending my honour, but it wasn't entirely necessary."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Lestrade replied, blushing a small bit and looking down at his increasingly interesting shoes.

Mycroft waved a hand as somewhat of a dismissal, then walked forward and picked Sherlock up, carrying him out of the room.

Lestrade stood amongst the two Johns.

"So what did you say you were going to change your name to?" The real John asked to break the uncomfortable silence, and to distract his clone from attempting to shoot lasers at Lestrade with his eyes.

"Sebastian." The now Sebastian replied, before continuing his evil looks directed at Gregory Lestrade parade.

"Sebastian what?"

"Sebastian I'm-a-moron-for-not-realising-I-have-Mycroft?" Lestrade childishly suggested in a way that would have just been made if he'd poked his tongue out.

"I'm done! You have him if you want him so much! It is not worth it." And with that Sebastian stormed out.

John and Lestrade looked at each other.

"If I let my clone wander the streets, is it going to turn into a bad sci-fi movie with it wreaking havoc and me getting blamed for it?"

"Probably."

"Let's leave it then."

And Sebastian was promptly forgotten about. For a while at least. Mycroft may have cared for a short while, perhaps four days, before deleting him. Sherlock didn't bother to remember him, and John and Lestrade forgot in the chaos that surrounded when Sherlock broke John's heart by jumping off the roof at St Bart's. Lestrade consoled a grief stricken Mycroft, and in the three years Sherlock was gone, built a relationship, and spent many holidays on Mycroft's own ship. John welcomed Sherlock back with open arms, after breaking two of his ribs.

"I'm sorry it took so long, John. I was tracking down all of Moriarty's men, but as he wasn't really dead, it made it so much harder to trace it back to him and his last man, Moran."

"Moron? Reminds me of that time I cloned myself for you. Lestrade called him a moron for neglecting Mycroft."

"Oh yes… Paul, or something?"

"Sebastian. Whatever happened to him? Did Mycroft send his people to kill him before he exposed what Baskerville were doing or what?"

"I think I have an idea. Moriarty had said something about getting a "live in one". I think he did."

"Great. So the other me shags Mycroft, then runs away with Moriarty, and then ends up getting killed by you?"

"Could be worse."

"How exactly could that be any worse?"

* * *

><p><strong>And this ship has sailed!<strong>

**In our quest to ship all the ships, we've covered Mystrade, Johnlock, Sheriarty, MorMor, Moriarty/John, Mycroft/John, and perhaps a little Holmescest if that is what you choose to believe happened after Mycroft carried Sherlock out of the room. Whatever floats your boat.**

**I apologise if this chapter feels a little rushed. Possibly because it is, but it was either now or never in Molly's brain land.**

**There may be an epilogue, covering exactly how things could have gotten worse, but in the mean time check out _Fernando Sunburn_, or wait for me to start my Mystrade fanfic.**

**Ciao.**


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